


Horror Drabbles

by paxambabes



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Amputation, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Buried Alive, Cannibalism, Death, Demonic Possession, Demons, Dismemberment, Euthanasia, Eye Trauma, Goretober, Graphic Depictions of Illness, M/M, Medical Torture, Neck trauma, Strangulation, Suicide, Torture, Vampires, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-01-08 02:01:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12244905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paxambabes/pseuds/paxambabes
Summary: An entire month of gory one-shots! Mostly involving Mark and Jack's egos, each chapter will be that day's prompt. Trigger warnings will be posted at the beginning for each chapter.





	1. Day 1: Forcibly Ripped Apart

**Author's Note:**

> Let's see if I actually keep up with this lmao. I'm going to experiment with different styles and concepts for this challenge and plus, I get to write things I normally wouldn't consider doing! As always, enjoy!
> 
> Trigger warnings for today's prompt: major character death, blood, gore, knives, eye trauma, dismemberment, cannibalism

Mark was running faster than he'd ever run before.

Jack had been fine one moment, but then in a flash, something happened. He'd somehow transformed into some kind of monster. Mark remembers how Jack's skin literally split apart, tendrils of black emerging from the wounds. His face was distorted, eyes appearing on every inch of his body. Jack had tried to fight it, but in the end he lost. The look on Jack's face would haunt Mark forever as he'd given in and let the monster take over. Mark didn't know what was going on or if he was dreaming, but he knew that he had to run away as fast as he could. 

Mark's legs were screaming for him to stop, so he obliged and finally sat down on the forest floor. How he'd ended up in the woods wasn't clear, but hopefully he'd put enough distance between him and whatever was inside of Jack. It was dusk now, the full moon peering through a group of clouds. Of course it was a full moon, Mark thought to himself and laughed. Mark brought his hands to his face, trying to process what the hell was going on. One minute his boyfriend was fine, and the next he'd become a literal monster. Mark didn't know how it'd happened but all he knew was that he was terrified and didn't want to die.

Minutes passed, and the only sound in the woods were the rustling of leaves and Mark's own breathing. It was unsettling being the only person around, but Mark was grateful for that. He could finally rest and formulate the next step of his plan. All he had to do was try and survive the night without running into Jack. Or at least, what was left of Jack. Mark remembered how happy Jack had been earlier that day. They had finalized the plans for their wedding and Jack was ecstatic. But then a few hours later, he'd complained of feeling sick. Mark had thought nothing of it at the time, but now he realized that his whole thing was his fault. Maybe if he'd gotten Jack some help then this whole thing wouldn't be happening. Then again, who could've even helped Jack? Mark sighed, hoping that there was still some way to save his boyfriend, but deep down he knew that it wasn't possible. Mark was too deep in thought to hear the crunching of leaves behind him.

Suddenly, Mark heard a snapping sound and he was broken from his trance. Mark whipped around in the direction of the noise, rising to his feet and preparing himself. There was no way it wasn't Jack, so Mark reached into his pocket for his switchblade, gripping it tightly. A shrill laugh broke the silence, echoing through the trees and making Mark shiver in fear. Another snapping noise echoed, this time from behind him. As Mark tried to turn around, two long, shadowy tendrils shot out from the shadows. Mark tried to run, but the tendrils caught up to him and wrapped around his ankles. Mark fell to the ground, and was being dragged to wherever they came from. Mark tried to stab them with his switchblade but he missed and cursed under his breath. Somewhere in the shadows, there was more laughter and a chilling voice.

"Come on now, Mark. Do you really think you can escape from me?" the voice resembled Jack's, only distorted with a static like quality. Mark knew he was fucked, but damn it if he wasn't going to try and escape. So he took a deep breath, and plunged the blade into the nearest tendril. There was a hissing sound as it released Mark's ankle, and the other one followed. They retreated into the darkness and Mark sighed in relief, catching his breath and rising to his feet. But the calm didn't last long. 

The next thing he knew, he was being shoved roughly against a tree and he cursed under his breath again. When Mark opened his eyes, he saw Jack's contorted and deformed face. There were numerous eyes appearing in and out of existence, all as black as the night sky. Jack was smiling with too many teeth, all jagged and reaching up to his ears. Mark tried not to act afraid, but whatever this thing was, it could sense Mark's fear. Jack dug his claws into Mark's shoulders as Mark cried out in pain, struggling against Jack's iron grip. Jack laughed, that same laugh that sent chills down Mark's spine.

"I normally don't like playing with my food, but this has been so fun. I can't wait to rip you to shreds and wear your pretty little face as a trophy," the monster said in a cheerful tone, almost like this was just a game for him. Mark had to think of something and fast, otherwise he'd literally be dead meat in seconds. Jack laughed again as he dug his claws deeper into Mark's shoulders. He opened his mouth wide and the next thing Mark saw nearly made him scream. Jack's jaw was now detached, opening impossibly wide like a snake, his impossibly long and pointed tongue slithering out. He lunged at Mark's face, but Mark managed to block him with his hands. Jack hissed as Mark gripped the blade in one hand while holding Jack's jaw open with both hands. Mark turned his head away as Jack tried to get closer, snapping at Mark's hands. His breath smelled like sulfur, and his teeth were long and razor sharp. Sharp enough to rip flesh, Mark thought to himself. Mark didn't know what to do. He couldn't hold Jack back for long, and he'd only be delaying his demise. But then Mark remembered the switchblade. He had an idea, but god it was stupid and dangerous and would probably get him killed quicker. But damn it he would try.

Mark steeled himself, moving his empty hand to the center of Jack's jaw, and raised the knife. Jack was howling now, clearly frustrated and hungry for Mark's flesh. Mark took a deep breath and plunged the knife into one of Jack's many eyes. The knife sank into his left eye with a grotesque squelching sound, and Jack howled in pain, releasing his hold on Mark. Mark sank to the ground, clutching the bloody knife and trying to ignore the burning pain in his shoulders. Jack was clutching his face, screaming in pain and saying something in a language Mark didn't understand. When Jack lowered his hand, Mark gasped. There was a black nothingness where his eye once was, and it was oozing a strange black liquid. Jack grimaced, and lunged for Mark, intending to finish this. Mark rolled out of the way, narrowly avoiding the beast. But as he was catching his breath, Jack lunged again, and pinned Mark to the ground.

"You really shouldn't have that, you know. You're only making this harder. Just fucking die already!" Jack screamed, voice hardly recognizable now, as if a thousand voices were talking at once.

"You know damn well that I won't give up. I'll find a way to bring Jack back and kill you!" 

"Oh sweetie, he's already gone. He can't hear you. But I can reunite you two soon," Jack laughed, mocking Mark.

Deep down Mark knew that the beast was right, and he knew that he had to kill Jack. Besides, this wasn't even Jack anymore. Mark silently apologized to Jack, wherever he was, and thrust the knife into Jack's chest. Jack howled in pain, screaming at Mark in a foreign tongue. He brought his claws to Mark's stomach, and dug deep. Mark screamed, but firmly held his grip on the knife, twisting it as deep as it would go. Blood was pouring from Mark's stomach, and the claws were going deeper by the second, but Mark still wouldn't give up. He knew that his time was almost up, but he'd go out kicking and screaming, possibly literally at this point.

Mark tried to kick Jack off of him, but he was already too weak from blood loss. Jack snarled and grabbed a hold of Mark's wrist, twisting it to the point of breaking. Mark screamed again as he heard a sickening crunch and felt blood hit his face. Jack had ripped his hand right off his arm, and was now dangling it in amusement. Mark's arm fell limply to his side, the knife still embedded in Jack's chest. There was nothing he could do now, except just lay there and wait to be eaten alive. Mark said his prayers as Jack tossed the hand to the side, opened that horrible mouth again, and bit his shoulder. He felt those razor sharp teeth slicing through skin and muscle, blood erupting through his skin. Jack was laughing wildly now, mouth full of Mark's body. Mark's vision began to slip, the world going fuzzy as he coughed up blood. He felt a strange heaviness in his chest, as if something was gripping his heart. Through his failing vision, Mark saw Jack's free hand deep in his chest. 

"Don't worry, you won't be needing this anymore," Jack laughed as he closed his hand around Mark's heart.

Mark felt a strange ripping sensation as his vision finally faded to black. The last thing he heard was that damn laughter as he finally closed his eyes for good.

The demon smiled, as the man finally went limp, heart in his hand. Hopefully it tasted as good as the rest of him did. But first, Jack decided that he'd finish dismembering the man, just so he could have more for later. Jack gripped Mark's left arm and pulled as hard as he could. It came off with no problem, and he proceeded to do the rest. Once Mark's limbs were in a neat pile, Jack knew he couldn't just leave all of this good meat to go to waste. So he opened his mouth once again and ripped into Mark's chest, admiring his work so far. After what seemed like hours, Jack's hunger was finally sated, as he looked down at the remains of Mark. There wasn't much left now except for the limbs that he'd previously severed. Jack smiled, content with his newest kill. He laughed to himself as he began to dig a makeshift grave for the poor man, wishing that Mark had lasted longer.

Somewhere in the ether, the real Jack sobbed.


	2. Day 2: Eye Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets punished, but in a way he's never experienced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've done a lot of eye horror in the past, but I thought I'd make this interesting. Enjoy!
> 
> Trigger warnings for this prompt: knives, blood, extreme gore and violence, neck/throat trauma, abusive undertones, eye trauma, skullfucking mention

"You've disobeyed me for the last time, Jack."

Jack hadn't meant to piss Dark off, but no matter what he does, Dark always finds a reason to punish him. What could he do to Jack that he hasn't already done? Jack had already been tortured to the point of death, given third degree burns, and been stabbed several times. As Jack stood in the basement, he contemplated just asking Dark to flat out kill him. But Jack knew Dark better than that, after all he's been Dark's prisoner for a year now and there was no chance of escape. Hopefully today would be the day it all ended. Dark stepped closer to him, taking Jack's face in his hands.

"You know that I love you, right? But you've angered me for the last time, and you know I have to punish you," Dark whispered almost sweetly in Jack's ear. He knew that Dark was lying. There was no way this demon was capable of feeling any kind of love. But even through the endless torture, Jack somehow grew to love it. Dark would lovingly caress him after each torture session, bandaging his wounds and whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Too bad he was literally insane.

Jack said nothing, fearing that he would incur a worse punishment. Instead he just shook his head in understanding, eyes aimed at the ground. Dark smiled warmly at that, and moved to grab some kind of restraints. Jack kept his eyes to the floor, dreading what he knew was to come. The next thing Jack knew, he was being roughly shoved against the nearest wall, and felt the cold metal of shackles around his ankles. Before Jack could catch his breath, he felt Dark roughly pull his arms above his head, and shackle them to a chain attached to the ceiling. When his work was finished, Dark stepped back to admire it.

"God you look so beautiful like this Jack. Too bad I'm gonna scar up your pretty little face," Dark cooed. 

Jacked gulped at that. He was really hoping Dark wouldn't do anything to his face. Although, it's not like Jack was allowed out in public anyway so who would see it? Jack steeled himself, preparing for the feel of a knife against his skin. But instead, he felt the cool touch of Dark's hand against his cheek. Jack instinctively leaned into the touch, momentarily forgetting what was happening. Dark just laughed, bringing his other hand to Jack's other cheek. The cold metal of the butcher knife on his cheek broke Jack's moment of bliss. He shivered in anticipation of what was about to happen. 

"Now, let's have some fun, shall we?" Dark laughed lowly, dragging the knife agonizingly slow across Jack's cheek, tightening his grip on Jack's face. Jack squirmed in his restraints, trying to resist the urge to scream and cry. The pain was blossoming slowly as the knife kept inching ever closer to Jack's mouth, blood flowing freely in its wake. Jack wished that Dark would just slit his throat and end his misery, but he knew Dark would take his sweet time as usual. Dark seemed to grow tired of going slowly, and instead aimed at Jack's other cheek, slashing furiously at it. Jack finally cried out, the pain coming on too quickly. Dark moved down to Jack's shoulders, slicing through his thin clothes, not stopping. Jack continued to scream, hoping that the knife would go too deep. Hopefully he'd die from blood loss soon, but of course he wouldn't be that lucky. Once Dark was satisfied with his himself, he dropped the knife and walked over to a nearby table. Jack couldn't see from this angle, but he was already afraid. Once Dark turned closer to him, Jack gasped at what he saw. There were long, thick spikes in both of Dark's hands. What the fuck was he going to do to Jack?

"Oh, you're wondering what these are for? Well you'll find out soon. Unfortunately you won't be seeing much after this," Dark said lowly, caressing the spikes in his hands.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Jack croaked out, voice scratchy from the screaming. Jack realized that he'd fucked up again by speaking without permission. Before he could apologize, Jack heard a clatter on the floor, and felt one of Dark's hands close tightly around his throat. Jack struggled against the restraints, trying to shake off Dark's grip, but to no avail.

"You just keep pissing me off, don't you? I was going to do this slowly, but now you leave me no choice," Dark hissed, raising the hand still holding a spike in the air, and thrust it into Jack's left eye. Jack convulsed, throwing up at the amount of pain and the horrible squelching sound of his eye being obliterated. Jack tried to move his head, but realized that the spike was now embedded in the wall, effectively pinning and trapping him for good. Through the haze of his tears, Jack could see Mark releasing his grip on the spike, and laughing wildly at Jack's pain.

"Seeing you in pain like this makes me so happy, y'know? The way you scream, and god, the way that your face looks while crying. If I didn't have more planned, I'd fuck that empty socket of yours, but there's one more thing that has to be done. I have to finish the job," Mark said, almost as if in a murderous trance. His eyes were fully black now, a look of absolute lust on his face. If Jack hadn't already vomited, then he would've at Dark's words. Jack decided that it was time to beg.

"Please, just kill me. I don't want to live anymore. I've been tortured by you for too long now. I just want to go home, please for the love of God. Just slit my throat or something, please. End my misery," Jack was outright sobbing now, tears mixing messily with the drying blood on his face. Jack sobbed, body shivering with each choked sob. All he wanted to do was die. He wouldn't get his wish, but god he could hope that Dark was feeling merciful. But of course Jack had the worst luck.

Dark stepped closer to Jack, a spike in one hand, and a knife in the other. 

"Now you know I can't do that Jack. You're too precious to me. But since you asked nicely, I'll wrap this up pretty quickly," Dark cooed again, running the bloody knife across the skin of Jack's neck. Before he could brace himself, Dark smiled and thrust the knife into the center of Jack's neck. Jack recoiled from the impact, the chains and shackles shaking. He could feel the bloody wounds on his hands and ankles, blood flowing freely. Jack could barely breathe now, choking and coughing around the blood pooling in his throat. Dark laughed again, looking absolutely insane. His hair was wild, his eyes full blown black, and a smile that reached too far across his face. Jack tried to speak, but nothing came out. He panicked but couldn't do anything. 

"Don't worry, you won't be talking back to me anytime soon. Now we just need to take care of that other pesky eye, hmm?" Dark was laughing crazily now, as if his last shreds of sanity were gone. 

Jack didn't care what happened anymore, and instead braced himself for the impact. The last thing he saw was Dark's crazed face, covered in blood in the dim lights of the basement, and the spike coming straight for his remaining eye. Then, he heard the familiar squelching of his eye being pierced. He was terrified, but couldn't scream. All he could do was sob quietly and embrace the darkness he now saw. For a moment, everything was quiet except for his own staggered breathing, and Dark's heavy laughter. Jack was now completely helpless, and all he craved was death. He was terrified, the darkness encompassing everything around him. Jack jumped as he felt a familiarly cold hand, now covered in blood, caress his ruined cheek.

"Now you can never leave me. We'll be together forever," Dark laughed sweetly, bringing his lips to Jack's, savoring the taste of Jack's blood. All Jack could do was take the kiss and obey Dark.

After all, he was truly Dark's now, and would be forever.


	3. Dya 3: Buried Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark is hungry for revenge, and he'll do anything to achieve it, even it means rising from the grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No gore this time, but I tried to do something different. Enjoy!
> 
> Trigger warnings for this time: strangulation/asphyxiation, major character death, suicide mention

Mark had been screaming for what seemed like hours now, but of course, nobody could hear him six feet underground.

He was banging on the lid of the coffin, doing anything he could to try to escape. But he knew that nothing would work. Air was getting thin, and Mark tried to conserve what little air was left, but it was getting harder. The last thing he remembered was blacking out, and Jack screaming his name. Oh god, Jack. He must be worried sick by now, Mark thought to himself. He probably thought that Mark was dead, and all he wanted to do was let his boyfriend know he was alive. But his strength was fading and Mark knew he wouldn't last much longer. Soon, Mark's arms began to grow numb, and his vision was starting to fade. He knew what he had to do, but god he didn't want to. It was time to call on Dark. Mark took a deep breath, and let down his mental guard and allowed Dark's energy to surge through his body. Soon, he could feel Dark taking over, and heard the demon's low laughter filling his head. Mark closed his eyes, hoping this would work, and let Dark take full control.

I'm finally free, Dark thought to himself. It took Mark long enough to realize that he needed the demon's help. After all, it was his fault that Mark was in this situation in the first place. All Dark had wanted to see was the look on Jack's face as his precious boyfriend dropped dead in front of his very eyes. The way Jack had sobbed, begging for Mark to wake up had given Dark the greatest pleasure. He smiled at the memory, awaiting the look on Jack's face when his boyfriend would rise from the dead. Dark knew that this situation would be difficult to escape due to the type of coffin they'd buried Mark in. But of course, nothing would be able to stand up to Dark's raw power after all. Dark placed his hands on the lid, focusing all of his energy on lifting it. With little to no effort, the lid broke, and Dark laughed to himself. This was going to be way too easy.

Soon, he was digging upwards, crawling through the wet dirt. As he neared the surface, Dark could sense someone's presence. He grinned, knowing that energy anywhere. It was Jack, probably crying like a child at Mark's grave. Just wait until he sees me, Dark smiled to himself. With a final push, Dark clawed his way through the last layer of dirt, hand bursting from the ground. He could hear Jack gasping, and moving away from the grave. Finally, Dark's head burst through the ground, hands pulling himself free of his prison. He could see Jack cowering near a tree, hands clasped over his mouth, sobbing and screaming through a thick curtain of rain. Soon, Dark was completely free, and rose to his feet.

"Did you miss me, Jack? Because I sure did miss you," Dark grinned, covered in dirt and soaked to the bone already.

Jack looked absolutely terrified, staring his dead boyfriend right in the eyes. Dark relished this moment, loving the way that Jack was sobbing, saying nonsense as he cried hysterically. Too bad he'd suffer the same fate soon. Dark began to step closer to Jack, readying his claws.

"This can't be happening. You're supposed to be dead!" Jack screamed, hysterical now, hands clutching his own face. Dark just smiled and closed the distance between them. Jack clung to the tree trying to gain distance, but Dark was quicker. He lashed out at Jack, landing a punch to his face, and knocking him to the ground. Jack cradled his face, trying to stand up, but Dark grabbed his legs and began to drag him towards the grave. Jack was kicking and screaming now, trying to wrestle free from Dark's grip, but to no avail. The rain kept falling, making it easier for Dark to drag Jack to what would be his death.

"You tried to abandon Mark, and for that you have to pay. He was torn up about it you know? He tried to kill himself because of you!" Dark screamed as he continued to drag Jack.

"I didn't mean to! He means so much to me-" before Jack could finish his sentence, Dark suddenly let go of him and turned around, and grabbed Jack by the shoulders.

"Cut the bullshit! I know what you meant to do! Nobody hurts Mark except for me damn it! You treated him like shit, so now I'm returning the favor," Dark spat out through clenched teeth. Jack was breathing heavily now, still crying. Dark was done with Jack's empty apologies and just wanted to get it over with. He took Jack by the shoulders and slammed him onto the open grave, trying to push him in. Jack fought back, kicking and screaming and clawing at Dark's arms, but he was no match for Dark's pure strength. The storm raged on around them, as Dark brought his hands to Jack's slender throat. He began to squeeze as hard as he could, a sinister smile on his face. He began to laugh wildly as Jack struggled to breathe, bringing his hands to Dark's, attempting to escape from his grasp. Soon, Jack finally began to grow weak, and his hands fell limply to his sides. But Dark still didn't let go. He tightened his grip one last time as he felt Jack take his last breath. He could've sworn he'd heard Jack say that he's sorry, but Dark didn't care. The man who'd made Mark suffer was finally dead. Dark finally released Jack's dead body, admiring the bruises along Jack's ghostly pale neck.

Dark rose to his feet, noticing a shovel nearby. He retrieved it and began to dig out a new grave for Jack's body, whistling as he did so. Sure, Mark would be upset at first when he regained control, but he'd thank Dark eventually. Time passed as the storm began to stop, and soon Dark's work was done. He dropped the shovel, and picked up Jack's limp body. He didn't even bother with a prayer as he roughly tossed Jack into the grave, and filled it up. Eventually, it was all finished and Dark swung the shovel happily and whistled as he walked away from the graveyard, smiling.

Somewhere in Dark's head, he could hear Mark sobbing.


	4. Day 4: Sickness/Demonic Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something was wrong with Jack, and it would only get worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I combined two prompts today and I'm actually really proud of this one! Enjoy!
> 
> Triggers for today: vomiting, demonic possession, behavior that could be interpreted as self harm, blood

Something was wrong with Jack.

It all started a few days ago with a splitting headache. Headaches weren't unusual for Jack to have, but this one was like someone had hit him in the head with a sledgehammer. He'd been sitting at his desk, minding his own business when the pain suddenly hit him like a freight train. He'd doubled over in his chair, clutching his head, crying from the intense pain. No matter what painkillers he took, nothing had worked. Jack had chalked it up to dehydration and decided to drink some water and head to bed early. But still, the pain persisted throughout the night, and he was miserable.

Then the uncontrollable nosebleeds started.

He'd already had enough with the headaches, but then of course the nosebleeds happened. At first, they weren't that bad. Just small trickles of blood at inconvenient times. Jack just figured that he was stressed, that's all. Maybe that would explain the headaches too. He'd brushed off the first few nosebleeds, but then they started getting worse. Jack had been trying to record a video when the worst one happened. He'd been sitting there, when all of a sudden he felt a massive pain in his head, then the rush of blood. This time, it had gushed from both nostrils, covering everything in blood. Jack had panicked, screaming and trying to find something to clean it up. But every time he'd wipe it away, more blood would join it. It continued like that for a solid hour, bleeding for what seemed like forever. Eventually, both the headache and bleeding had stopped, but soon it started again. Jack didn't know what to do, so once again he slept. Maybe it would help, he thought to himself. What he didn't realize was that it was about to get worse.

By the third day, Jack had grown weak from the constant nosebleeds.

Nothing seemed to help and the headaches were more frequent now. He could barely keep anything down, constantly vomiting and dry heaving. He'd done all the googling he could, but nothing was adding up. Jack was terrified, unsure of what was happening to his body. He'd started to drop weight rapidly, growing weaker by the hour. Then the hallucinations started. At first it was just small things like seeing shadows on the walls, or hearing scratching on the doors. But as the night went on, the hallucinations grew more severe. Soon, Jack was hearing things that sounded like high pitched wailing coming from outside of his door. Then the strange feelings came about. It felt as if there were insects burrowing deep into his skin, like something was crawling all over him. Jack started to scratch at his body, hoping to get whatever was inside out of him. It started to drive him insane, not being able to see where things were coming from, and constantly scratching at his skin. It was almost like an obsession.

On the fourth day, everything came crashing down.

It'd been four days of pure hell for Jack, and he'd barely slept or eaten. His phone was always ringing, probably because of Mark worrying about him. He'd locked himself inside of the apartment, not daring to see what was on the other side, if there was even anything there at all. But Jack didn't want to take that chance. He'd been curled up on the living floor since yesterday, idly scratching at his now ruined arms. The scratching had grown so severe that there were deep marks from Jack's fingernails, dried blood coating the skin. But still, the feelings of the insects persisted. Jack almost swore that he saw one moving under his skin a moment ago. How'd he even get to this point? Laying in a pile of his own filth, starving and weak, a slave to his own hallucinations. He took a deep breath and shakily rose to his feet. His apartment was a mess, things strewn everywhere from his last hallucinatory episode where he'd thought something was coming through the walls. Jack knew that things had gotten out of control, but all he cared about was relief. Even if it meant death. Jack tried to shake that thought from his mind, limping weakly to the bathroom. The least he could do was take a shower to rinse off all of the dried blood on his body. As he flicked on the light, the bathroom was flooded with a nauseatingly bright light that almost made Jack vomit. Everything looked so sterile compared to the rest of the house. He looked in the mirror, taking stock of his injuries. His entire face was littered with scratches and bruises from banging his head on the wall to ease the headaches. God he looked fucking awful. Jack turned on the faucet, rinsing his hands and bringing water to his face. But when he opened his eyes, something was wrong.

The eyes in the mirror weren't his. 

Jack panicked and blinked, but the reflection in the mirror stayed deathly still. He moved his hands, testing to see if the reflection would move. It continued to stay still. Jack leaned closer to the mirror, but as he grew closer, the glass suddenly shattered and the lights went dim. Jack spun around, looking at the light, panicking again. But before he could do anything, the headache returned and his nose began gushing blood again, and he heard a high pitched cackle. Jack was crying, terrified and unsure if he was just hallucinating again. When he went to wipe the blood from his nose, he felt something different. Something much thicker. Jack brought the liquid to his face, feeling sick at the sight of it. It looked like black tar, and the smell was nauseating. Jack didn't have time to think about it before he suddenly doubled over and vomited. It was the damn black liquid. It kept coming, and Jack couldn't stop it. The lights were flickering now and the laugh grew closer, almost as if it was coming from inside his own head. Jack fell to his knees, clutching his throat, wishing for death. Soon, all he could see was static around him, like the world was coming undone. Then, the strange voice came back.

"Don't fight it, Jack. Let me in," the voice rasped out, as if it was speaking from Jack's own throat. Jack didn't care about fighting anymore, so he gave in and let the static envelop his vision and let the world fade away. Soon, everything was quiet and Jack's heaving stopped. He rose shakily to his feet, turning to the now shattered mirror, and looked.

Pitch black eyes stared back at him and he smiled. Everything had gone according to plan.

The body was finally his.


	5. Dya 5: Vampires/Blood Drinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark always enjoyed the thrill of the hunt. Tonight was no different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is up so late, I've been working on other fics. But anyways, enjoy!
> 
> Today's triggers: blood drinking, vampires

Dark always enjoyed the thrill of the hunt.

He'd pick the prettiest boy he could find, and ambush them and drain them dry. But tonight, he was feeling more adventurous. Dark was currently talking to a gorgeous green haired Irishman, and god he looked absolutely splendid. His blood probably tasted even better, Dark thought to himself. He tried not to get distracted as the man talked, but all Dark could think about was the smell of the man's blood. He could practically taste it already, the sweet scent of it hanging in the air of the dimly lit club. The man was clearly drunk, slurring his speech and his accent thickening. He'd only barely caught the man's name, Jack. Dark could barely understand what he was saying, but it didn't matter. It was time to lure him out and go in for the kill. Dark placed his hand on the other man's arm and leaned in close.

"I think it's time that we take this somewhere else, don't you think?" Dark whispered seductively, hoping to seal the deal. Dark got his answer in the form of a crushing kiss, Jack bringing their lips together forcefully. Dark moaned into the kiss, momentarily forgetting his goal and giving in to lust. But Dark soon remembered his purpose here, and reluctantly broke the kiss. Jack seemed to understand, even in his drunken stupor. They both rose to their feet, hands intertwined as they stumbled out of the busy club. 

Jack eventually led them down a dimly lit alley and Dark took the opportunity to pounce on his target. Dark grabbed Jack by the shoulders, and shoved him up against the brick wall with all of his strength. Jack let out a strange noise, almost like a breathy moan.

"Oh so you're into the rough stuff huh? Well thank god I am too," Jack slurred, bringing his arms around Dark's shoulders, and crashing their lips together again for the second time that night. This time, the kiss was different. It was much more urgent, one born out of lust. Dark gave in to his impulses and kissed him back roughly, realizing that they were both hard. So much for keeping pleasure out of the hunt, Dark thought to himself. As they kissed messily, Dark began to roll hips against Jack's, letting out a low moan. Jack's grip on Dark tightened, as he returned the favor, meeting the slow rhythm of Dark's hips. Dark knew that he'd get carried away if he didn't make his move now, but he was hesitant. Did he really want to kill this handsome man? Humans are food and that's it, Dark thought to himself. So Dark prepared to do what he intended to do from the start.

Dark broke the kiss, hearing Jack whine in protest, hips bucking forward for any kind of friction. He almost felt bad for him, but soon Jack wouldn't feel anything. Dark reared back his head, letting his fangs slip out. Jack's eyes grew wide, but what Dark found there wasn't terror, it was lust.

"A vampire huh? Now that's really hot," Jack laughed drunkenly, obviously not realizing the danger he was in. Mark smiled in the dim alleyway, illuminated by the full moon above him. Now was his time to strike and finally seal the deal. Dark leaned in close and grabbed Jack's hair, pulling his head back to expose the pale skin of his neck. Jack was panting and moaning now, obviously still turned on by the whole thing.

"Is it gonna feel good?" Jack looked up at Mark through hooded eyes, lips shining invitingly in the moonlight. 

"For a bit, yes. I'll make it so good for you," Dark growled lowly, bringing his mouth to Jack's exposed neck. Jack brought one hand around to rest on the back of Dark's neck, as if giving him permission to continue. Dark couldn't take it anymore, overcome with lust and hunger, and bit down.

When Dark's fangs pierced his skin, Jack let out a long, loud moan. His hand gripping Dark's neck tightly, pushing Dark's face further into his neck. Dark moaned, growling as Jack's sickly sweet blood filled his mouth. He tightened his grip on Jack's hair, hearing Jack yelp in pain. But Dark didn't care if he was hurting the other man. All that mattered was the sweet blood filling his mouth and returning his strength to him. Dark rocked his hips against Jack's wanting relief, but instead focusing on feeding. 

Soon, Jack's body began to grow limp, his hand falling from Dark's neck. Dark knew that Jack was about to run dry, but he was tempted to just suck him dry and leave his body to rot. But Dark was feeling merciful today. He finally withdrew himself from Jack's abused neck, seeing the small trickles of blood flowing from the wound. Dark smiled to himself and gently set Jack down on the dingy ground. Jack looked up at Dark, barely able to keep his eyes open. Before Jack could speak, Dark broke the silence.

"You'll be okay. Just go to sleep," Dark gently assured Jack, getting down on his knees and passing his hand over Jack's eyes. With that, Jack slumped over, deep asleep already. Dark rose to his feet and began to exit the alley.

Maybe he'd have to pay Jack another visit some time.


	6. Day 6: Zombies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark is grieving over the loss of Jack, and decides to do something very stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late update again, but here you guys go!
> 
> Triggers for today: zombies, blood, major character death, gore, cannibalism

It'd been two months since Jack died, and Mark was still in denial.

Mark had barely slept since the day they lowered Jack's coffin into the earth, and it was taking a toll on him. He was pale and gaunt, barely eating and having constant breakdowns. He hadn't left his and Jack's apartment since the funeral, and it was already falling into disrepair. Every time Mark would pass by a picture of them together, he'd start crying uncontrollably and think of what could have been. The first night without Jack, Mark had fallen asleep clutching a picture of them together on their first date. Now it sat forgotten, hidden in their closet, a reminder of someone he never wanted to lose. Last night, he'd called over a medium to give him closure, to assure him that Jack was in a better place. But when the medium arrived, she'd offered Mark an opportunity he couldn't refuse. 

The chance to see him one last time, a proper goodbye. Mark didn't even stop to consider the moral implications of messing with death, he just wanted to see his beloved again. So he'd accepted her offer, not realizing the possible consequences. She gave him a strange looking object, and said to bury it in the loved one's grave during the light of the full moon and wait one night. Mark thought that was easy enough, but then he remembered that it involved leaving his house for the first time in two months. I'll do anything to see him again, Mark thought to himself, thanking the medium and setting out for the graveyard. When Mark reached Jack's grave, object in hand, he fell to his knees in front of the all too familiar gravestone. All of his emotions came back at once, flooding him with grief. Mark fought through it, clawing through the dirt of Jack's grave, and placing the object in the soil. He covered it back up, and took a moment to take everything in. 

"God I hope this works. I just want to hold you one last time," Mark sobbed, finally allowing himself to cry. He didn't think there were any tears left in his body, but they came as freely as they had two months ago on the day of the funeral. Mark collected himself and reluctantly left the graveyard. Mark hadn't even noticed the storm blowing in, thunder rolling in the distance. A lone bolt of lightning illuminated Jack's grave as Mark drove away.

Mark had spent the next day agonizing over what he'd done, convinced that it wouldn't work. Maybe the medium really was a fraud, he thought to himself. But he'd been desperate enough to even try. When nightfall came, Mark was camped out in the living room, watching as the storm raged on. Soon it was almost midnight, and Mark had fallen asleep, convinced that it hadn't worked. But in the silence of the apartment, the sound of the doorknob turning echoed. Mark was still fast asleep, not hearing the door opening and the low groaning of the stranger. Suddenly, the thunder grew louder and stirred Mark from his slumber. Mark awoke, and went to turn on a nearby lamp. As the light turned on, Mark had noticed the stranger standing in the middle of the room. As the lightning outside illuminated the dark room, Mark's jaw dropped at what he saw.

It was Jack, alive. Well, technically alive. He looked awful, his suit torn and dirty from the dirt of the grave. His fingers were worn down to the bone, bloody from clawing through the coffin. There wasn't much left of his hands either, flesh rotting down to the bone. His head was turned down towards the ground, and Mark heard him groaning and panting. Mark tentatively stepped closer to him, not believing his eyes. Just as Mark was nearing him, Jack raised his head. Mark nearly vomited at what he say, covering his mouth with his hands.

Jack's face was half rotted, one eye completely gone, only the dirty socket left. His skin was split in different areas, and it looked as if insects were burrowed in the remaining skin. His hair was brittle, bald patches on numerous areas of his head from where his hair had fallen out. But worst of all was his mouth. Oh god, his mouth. The left side of Jack's face was almost completely bone, his teeth showing through the rotted and cracked skin, muscles exposed. The other side wasn't much better. It had rotted to the point of muscle and sinew showing, glistening sickeningly in the dim light of the room. Jack's lone eye focused on Mark's face.

"You really shouldn't have brought me back, Mark. It's not nice to wake the dead," Jack's voice was rough, sounding almost like a whisper.

"I.. I just wanted to see you one more time. To properly say goodbye," Mark choked out through his tears, fearful but also grateful. Mark bridged the gap between them, taking Jack's ruined and rotting body in his arms. Jack reluctantly and slowly brought his arms to Mark's shoulders, resting his head in the crook of Mark's neck. Mark sobbed into Jack's neck, thankful that he'd gotten the chance to see him again.

"I just love you so much Jack. Nothing's been the same without you. I'm nothing without you," Mark continued sobbing, tightening his grip on Jack, not wanting to ever let him go. Mark didn't notice Jack's breathy laugh, as he brought his mouth to Mark's neck and bit down. Mark screamed, trying to push Jack off of him, but Jack's grip was too strong. Mark felt the dull teeth ripping into his skin and muscles, blood erupting from the wound. Jack's laugh reverberated throughout Mark's body as he continued to rip through Mark's neck. Mark felt a strange sensation in his body, almost like searing venom. He gasped, weakly pushing at Jack to stop, but there was no relief. Soon Jack pushed Mark onto the ground roughly, bringing his hands to Mark's chest and digging his sharp, bony fingers into Mark's flesh. Mark tried to scream, but everything was going dark, and his whole body was going numb. He felt sick to his stomach, head burning up with a fever. Jack finally withdrew his mouth, blood coating his face and suit.

"Don't worry Mark, we'll truly be together forever now. No need for goodbyes now," Jack laughed lowly as his hands continued to dig into Mark's chest. Mark was losing consciousness now, knowing he was near death. Mark brought one hand up to Jack's bloody face, and caressed it one last time. Mark finally closed his eyes, saying one last thing. 

"I'm sorry, Jack," and with that, Mark slipped into the darkness.


	7. Day 7: Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henrik gets revenge, and it's not pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't think I'd ever come back to this but I just wanted to try and chip away at this for a while since I wanted to get back into writing horror and take a break from porn. Not sure if anyone even wanted more of this but here you go.
> 
> Triggers for this chapter: major character death, torture, blood and gore, euthanasia, guns, suicide, flaying, amputation, neck trauma

Henrik remembered the patient that had changed his life for the second time.

His name had been Chase, a man with nothing left to lose after a disastrous divorce. He came to Henrik after hearing about his services, one being humane euthanasia. The man had been too afraid to do it himself, not his children to see him lifeless. Henrik had agreed, motioning for Chase to lie down and get comfortable while he went and prepared the drug. He'd spent years developing the perfect drug to kill patients, but only with their consent. At least, that's how it started originally. Part of him enjoyed seeing the life drain from these people, how they looked so relaxed in their final moments. Most normally prayed and begged for forgiveness for their sins to whatever god they believed in once Henrik first injected them. He knew it was their way of coming to terms with their slow death, but Henrik thought it was silly. He'd lost his faith a long time ago, after he lost his first patient of his career, a man named Jack. He'd survived a murder attempt, but Henrik had known that Jack was a lost cause the moment he saw the poor man. But he tried everything he could, and that night he cried over Jack's lifeless body after hours of failed surgery. From that moment on, he became a changed man. He no longer cared for his patients, just seeing them as worthless and guinea pigs for his unethical experiments. Soon the drug was properly mixed and he stood over Chase, seeing the man look completely calm and at peace with his decision.

"Don't worry, this won't hurt. Soon you won't be feeling anything anymore. Make peace with whatever power you believe in now, preferably silently," Henrik recited the tired words he'd used dozens of times, not caring about the man beneath him.

"I lost faith a long time ago and I'm more than ready to get this over with," Chase's voice was steady and sure, not a hint of remorse to be heard. Henrik smiled as he finally pierced Chase's skin with the needle, the drug already doing it's work. He'd made it with the hope that it would make the process easier and completely painless, the initial feeling of numbness helping with it. As he withdrew the needle, he could already see Chase's eyes fluttering closed, his breaths slow and drawn out. Henrik stood over him in the shadow of the bright lights, hoping to catch the exact moment that his heart stopped. It wasn't long before Chase drew his last breath, his heartbeat slowing to a crawl, and his eyes closing. Sure enough, his heartbeat ceased and Henrik saw the last bit of life leaving the man. Part of him hoped that he could find peace wherever he was now, but another part had become so numb to death that he couldn't even bother to care anymore. Henrik called up his good friend Wilford, who was a longtime cannibal, to let him that he had another body for him. Henrik can't even remember how they'd met, but he was the only one who understood his lust for killing and he'd rather provide Wilford with bodies than let him run loose and risk getting arrested. It was a small trade off for his services, with Wilford sending potential victims over to Henrik so he could kill them and then give him the bodies. Henrik retired to his room, satisfied for at least a little while, trying to sleep. But just like every night, he was haunted by the memories of Jack's death.

Three days later, Henrik was preparing for a new patient when he suddenly got a sinking feeling in his stomach. As he turned around, he saw something that he'd hoped to never see again.

It was Jack's murderer, a man known only as Anti.

Anger overtook Henrik as he ran towards the killer, a scalpel in hand. But Anti just laughed, effortlessly moving out of the way and pinning Henrik to the cold steel of the table.

"It's been a while, hasn't it doc?" Anti laughed, that awful sound that Henrik had never wanted to hear again. 

"You're probably wondering why I'm here, hmm? Well you terminated my next assignment, that poor sap Chase. And my boss isn't happy, so he placed a bounty on your head and I'm here to collect it," Anti pressed closer to Henrik, a knife coming to rest at his throat. Adrenaline started to rush through Henrik's veins as the knife just nicked him, sending him into blind rage. He managed to overpower Anti, knocking him to the floor, the knife clattering on the ground away from him. In the blink of an eye, Henrik attacked him, throwing punches that he'd hoped would land, one of catching his nose. He heard the sickening crunch of broken bones over the sound of Anti's deep snarl. He pulled Anti across the cold tile, the killer kicking and screaming in Henrik's iron grip. He tied Anti down to the table with his best restraints, much to Anti's anger.

"What are you gonna do, pump me full of drugs and watch me die? You'd think that you'd kill me in a more interesting way at least," Anti mocked him, a toothy smile on his face.

"I'm going to make you suffer for what you did to Jack. Believe me, I'll make you wish you were dead very soon," Henrik's voice was strained, trying not to lose control just yet. He picked up his best scalpel and began to cut through Anti's shirt with precision, until it was wide open.

"You're gonna bore me to death or what? Just move the fuck on with it already," Anti rolled his eyes as Henrik raised the scalpel, the lights illuminating him over the trapped man.

"If you insist," Henrik said gleefully, bringing the scalpel down hard, slicing right through Anti's skin. A loud scream was ripped from Anti's throat, the blood already gushing and pooling on the table. Henrik had never felt more alive than during this moment, years of pent up rage threatening to bubble to the surface. But he had to compose himself and take it slow, to savor the feeling of revenge. Anti was squirming now, trying to fight against the restraints. But Henrik knew he wouldn't be able to break free because nobody ever had before. He laughed as he brought the blade to his skin again, Anti rambling on and cursing. 

"Looks like you've got a problem. I'm afraid that I'll have to do something about that," Henrik saw Anti's cocky smirk immediately fall at those words, the look on his face one of fear. Henrik roughly cut into Anti's chest, carving out a spot of skin. Anti was howling in pain now, thrashing harder. Henrik was relishing this moment, the look of pure terror on Anti's face. When the skin was loose enough, Henrik roughly ripped it free, earning him another high pitched scream from the subject beneath him. He continued to peel off pieces of Anti's skin until a large part of his chest was nothing but exposed muscle and blood. The table was soaked in blood now, some of it running over the confines to the floor, Henrik's shoes already soaked in it. He moved down to Anti's arms, skinning them as well. The table behind him was full of bloody scraps of skin, bits of fat still clinging to them. Henrik made a mental note to save those for Wilford as Anti kept screaming beneath him.

"Not so tough now, are we?" Henrik laughed, his face twisted into a macabre smile as he cut into the muscle of the arm, trying to sever it. Anti was almost crying now, something that Henrik figured he rarely did. Soon, the lower half of his arm was gone, tossed to the ground.

"I'm surprised you haven't died from blood loss yet. But don't worry, it'll be over soon," Henrik mused as he went for Anti's throat, the fading scar there his target.

"Stop being a coward and just kill me! I know that's what you want, you want revenge. Just lose control and let the beast out, let it take over you and enact your revenge," Anti screamed, his voice already growing weaker and his skin growing paler from blood loss. At that moment, Henrik snapped and drove the knife straight into Anti's neck, the clattering against the table. Anti made a disgusting gurgling sound, blood gushing from the wound, the knife still lodged inside. Anti's remaining hand was flailing, trying to break free with the intention of removing the knife, but Henrik was quicker. He grabbed another knife and severed the hand quickly, blood spurting out and coating his face. He'd sorely the missed the feel of fresh blood against his skin, the feeling of arousal starting. But all he could focus on was the task at hand. Anti was spasming against the table, blood pouring from his mouth.

"How does it feel to be struggling for your life? To feel like Jack did? He went through so much because of you and he paid the price. But now you'll suffer the same fate," Henrik screamed as picked up the bloody knife and drove it into the exposed muscle of Anti's chest. All he could hear was Anti's gurgled screams and the sound of the knife hitting the table beneath them. Henrik let his rage consume him, filling every part of his being. He kept stabbing into Anti's already ruined chest, not noticing the faltering of his breathing and heartbeat. Before long, Anti went cold and limp beneath Henrik, the blood still pouring out. Henrik stopped as he let go of the knife as he fell to his knees in an enormous puddle of blood. He let the feeling of relief wash over him, his purpose finally fulfilled. But instead of feeling happy, he just felt empty. He had nothing left to live for, his sole goal completed. He let himself sob as he laid in Anti's blood, the room completely silent except for his sobbing. After what seemed like hours, Henrik rose to his feet and washed the dried blood off of his hands, going to prepare a note for Wilford. Things would be hard for his friend, but Henrik just couldn't go on. He retrieved his trusty pistol from beneath his bed and sat there as he loaded the chamber. Henrik thought of how desperate Jack looked when he came to him, losing blood too fast from the wound in his neck. The look of pure agony and defeat on his face as Henrik tried to save him, crying over him when he finally passed on. Henrik had tried to kill himself that night, unfortunately unsuccessful. But now, he'd make things right and finally see Jack again. He took a deep breath as placed the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger. There was immense pressure and a loud bang, and then everything was finally quiet.

His ordeal was finally over, the deed done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can find me at transantisepticeye.tumblr.com


	8. Day 8: Magic Gone Wrong/Decay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase always knew that Marvin's magic was unstable, but this was something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with another update! This one was hard to get out, but here it is.
> 
> Warnings: major character death, graphic descriptions of gore, general body horror, mentions of vomiting

Chase had volunteered to be Marvin's guinea pig for his magic spells, hoping that nothing bad would happen. Unfortunately, things don't always go as planned.

Most of his spells had either been duds or temporary effects, such as that one incident where he'd basically inflicted sex pollen on Chase. He really didn't mind doing this, after all it was kind of fun. But whenever something didn't go as planned, Marvin would get upset, saying that he was an embarrassment to magic users. He wasn't bad, but he definitely needed work. Chase had tried to be nice to him, even after some of the things Marvin had put him through for the sake of practice. Then again, nobody else had even dared to volunteer, afraid that Marvin would fuck up royally at some point. 

Unfortunately, that day was today.

It'd started out like a normal session with Marvin trying to get the words right, fretting over every little thing. But Chase was already tired enough, and he just wanted to be done.

"Are you ready yet? Because I'd really like to get this over with if you don't mind," Chase grumbled, idly playing with the sheets on his bed. Marvin frowned, already upset enough but Chase didn't care at this point.

"Fine. But if something bad happens, you'll just have to deal with it," Marvin sneered, raising his wand to Chase and starting to hum. Chase immediately felt some sort of energy pulsing through him as Marvin started to chant something in a language that he couldn't understand.Marvin's eyes were closed as he started to move his wand in a pattern, his voice growing louder and more urgent, his brows furrowing in frustration. Suddenly, Chase felt as if he was about to throw up, an immense pain spreading throughout his body. He slumped over, clutching his chest as he sobbed through the pain, Marvin not even noticing. It felt like his entire body was on fire, as if he was dying. 

"Marvin, stop! Please, just fucking stop!" Chase sobbed as the pain grew worse, his vision fading. Finally, Marvin snapped out of his concentration and stopped the chanting, dropping his wand and running over to Chase. Thank god the pain was starting to fade now, his vision returning and the burning feeling going away.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't think that would happen!" Marvin apologized profusely, checking Chase for any external injuries and sending him straight to Henrik. After a few hours of being thoroughly checked over, Henrik had told him that he was just fine, and that he probably imagined the whole thing. Chase snorted at that as he walked back to his room, still thinking back to the incident with Marvin earlier. That night, he started to itch all over, but he just ignored it. He'd deal with it later, if it was even a real issue.

It started with the itching and strange patches on his skin.

When he woke up, the itching had grown severe and all Chase wanted to do was claw his skin off. Each time he scratched at it, the itching seemed to grow worse. He'd already had enough of it as he walked over to the full length mirror near his bed, staring at his reddened arms. There seemed to be strange patches, almost looking like bruises all over his arms. Chase was puzzled, but he chalked it up to some weird side effect of Marvin's spell. It's not like this sort of thing hadn't happened before, his mind going back to one incident where he was bruised for days. He ignored it as he went about his day, Marvin immediately going pale at the sight of his arms.

"It's because of me isn't it?" Marvin's face fell, his voice faltering. 

"It's fine man. I've dealt with this before. The itching is new though," Chase said as he idly scratched at one of the discolored patches, a small bead of blood coming to the surface. Chase barely noticed the bleeding as he continued to scratch, Henrik finally calling him out.

"Don't do that, you'll only make it worse! I'll have to do something about this," Henrik rolled his eyes, grabbing Chase by the arm and dragging him to his office, side eyeing Marvin on the way out. Henrik sat him down and took a look at his arms, applying some strange ointment and bandages to them. Chase hissed at the burn of the ointment on his raw skin, biting his lip as the itching grew even worse. 

"There, that should do it. You really should come see me if anything else unusual happens. Maybe you should stop being Marvin's little experiment. I mean, he could get you killed one day," Henrik actually sounded concerned, but Chase just laughed at his words, knowing that everything would resolve itself soon. Throughout the day, the raw patches of his skin started to bleed, soaking the bandages. More of the discoloration started to appear on his whole body, the blotches deepening in color. Chase wasn't afraid, even as the other egos had looks of concern on their faces.

The next day, the headaches and weakness started.

As soon as Chase woke up, he knew that it'd gotten worse. He took off the bandages to clean his arms, noticing that the skin was a deep red now, almost like it was swollen. The patches along his body were spreading, some kind of puss starting to leak from them. Chase grimaced at that, trying his best to clean everything. But when he tried to walk to the bathroom, his legs gave out as he fell to the floor, his head pounding. There was definitely something wrong now as he realized that his muscles felt sore for no reason, his very bones aching. His skin was hot to the touch, parts of his body looking purple. Chase gingerly lifted himself off the floor, immediately running to Henrik's office. When Henrik saw him, his jaw dropped at the state of Chase's body. He did all sorts of tests, but he still couldn't figure out what was wrong.

"It honestly looks like some sort of infection, but I really can't tell. Then again, it is of magical origin so it's nearly impossible to know what it is. I'll try to do as much research as I can today. In the meantime, you should probably just rest," Henrik's voice was laced with worry as he gingerly dressed Chase's wounds. When he'd gone back to his room, Chase realized that he had a fever and the urge to vomit was strong. He could feel blisters forming on his skin, and the itching was reaching a fever pitch. His whole body was burning up, his muscles aching and screaming at him to lay down. Chase finally laid down, hoping that sleep would fix it.

Everything went south on the third day.

Chase woke up in a pool of sweat, his skin burning and his head pounding. Suddenly his stomach lurched, and he ran to the bathroom. He vomited for what felt like hours until he pooled all of his strength to stand up. When he looked in the mirror, his stomach lurched again.

Most of his skin was angry purple, parts of it black and what looked like muscle exposed. The blisters were oozing awful liquid, the purple spreading to his face. As he looked down to his hand, he swore he saw it spreading before his very eyes. Most of the skin on his hand was gone, the bloody muscles starting to show through. Chase staggered back, falling to the floor as his muscles gave out again. He could feel the infection spreading through his body, the feel of his skin dissolving right then. He tried in vain to stand up, only to realize that his legs wouldn't work, the bones already wasting away. He was laying there in a pool of his own sweat, blood, and liquid from the blisters, his body dying before his very eyes. Chase cried out, hoping that someone would hear him. Eventually, he heard two sets of footsteps run towards him, voices screaming in horror above him. He could feel Henrik and Chase trying to lift him up, the infection already eating away at his face.

"I've never seen anything like this. He's quite literally rotting from the inside out," Henrik was panicking, trying to do anything he could, but Chase knew that it was too late. He could feel his heart slowing, his insides slowly decaying. He vaguely registered that the tips of his fingers were bone now, and he heard Marvin sobbing next to him.

"It's all my fucking fault! He's dying because of me! There has to be something you can do!" Marvin was hysterical now, sobbing and screaming at Henrik.

"I'll be surprised if he makes it for another five minutes. He's literally decaying, Marvin. Just let him die. It's the least you can do after causing this," Henrik spat out, tears in his eyes. Marvin gripped Chase's decaying hand, crying into his shirt as Chase's breathing started to get shallow. He could feel his whole body rotting, and he couldn't tell if the wetness on his face was tears or blood. He felt something roll down the side of his face and heard it hit the floor, Marvin screaming at the sight. Chase could only assume it was one of his eyes since half of his vision was black. He knew that the bones were starting to show on his face, since Henrik had set up a mirror. Part of Chase thought it was morbid to see himself quite literally waste away, but the other part didn't care as what was left of his vision started to fade, coughing up blood. Marvin was screaming for Henrik to intervene, but all he did was stand over Chase, morbidly watching him decay. It almost looked like Henrik had a halo above his head, the light shining down harshly on him. As Chase closed his eye and took his last breath, he heard one last thing.

"Rest easy, my dear boy."


End file.
